


Do you see what i see?

by UltraStreep



Category: The Devil Wears Prada (2006)
Genre: Caught, F/F, Praise Kink, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-04
Updated: 2018-08-04
Packaged: 2019-06-21 17:29:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15562830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UltraStreep/pseuds/UltraStreep
Summary: If Emily thought over-hearing Miranda having sex was bad enough, it was nothing compared to seeing.





	Do you see what i see?

**Author's Note:**

> A huge THANK YOU to Stormashke for being my Beta/teacher/EIC. I hope I can be a worthy student. This story, with all its full stops, is for you.

*Emily’s POV*

  
It had taken me two days to be able to look Miranda in the eye again and a good week before I could do so without blushing. Miranda Priestley was a goddess in my eyes, but I guess I had put her on a pedestal so high, I had forgotten she was also just a woman. A woman with needs, as it turns out.

  
Miranda returning from a budget meeting with Irv and in a foul mood, was nothing ground-breaking. The interfering toad was always deliberately cutting Runway’s budget to spite her. God the man was a first class arsehole! But I digress. Miranda in a bad mood after seeing Irv was normal, Miranda shutting her office door was not.

  
I still don’t know who was in her office that day, or how and when, they had snuck in, but after hearing the first few moans accompanied by thumping against the door, it was getting difficult to pretend that anything other than sex was going on in there. Serena still teases me about it, but it’s hard to concentrate on writing down your superior’s orders when all you hear is “HARDER and FUCK YES THERE” in their place!

  
What sort of a First Assistant was I anyhow? I didn’t even know she was seeing someone. And for her to allow him to have his way with her, in her office, in the middle of the day no less! Well, she was obviously serious about him. Possibly the next Mr. Priestly? I had left for lunch before her office door was reopened.

  
But If I thought over-hearing Miranda having sex was bad enough, it was nothing compared to seeing it with my own eyes.

  
Let me give you some background here. Miranda’s twin girls, Caroline and Cassidy, were born 10 weeks prematurely. It had been a stressful and anxious time for all, but the doctors and nurses had been wonderful. The girls were little fighters, they had pulled through and were now 10 years old. As a thank you, Miranda had vowed to do everything she could to repay them. And so her annual Black & White fundraising ball for the Neonatal Intensive Care Unit at New York’s Presbyterian Hospital had been born.

  
For as much as I love ‘Runway events’, I have to admit, I enjoy these charity ones a teensy bit more. Oh don’t get me wrong, any event hosted by Miranda is bloody hard work to organise, but a ‘non Runway’ event meant I was able to relax a bit more and enjoy it. I didn’t need to memorize two folders worth of faces and names and wasn’t required to be at her beck and call all night long. Although I was never very far away from her, some habits are hard to break.

  
This year, the Black & White Ball was being held in the Grand Ballroom at the Plaza Hotel, and anyone who was anyone, was there.

  
Miranda always had a suite at these events. Somewhere where she (and occasionally I) could get dressed and prepared, somewhere where she could retreat to, during the evening if required. It was in this suite, I saw my boss in a position that would forever be burned onto my retinas.

  
To the rest of the room, Miranda, appeared to be cool, calm and collected. To me, someone whom spent hours a day studying her body language, I knew that something wasn’t quite right. She seemed distracted and restless, almost as though she had somewhere else to be. Maybe the evening was just one big inconvenience for her? She was currently across the ballroom in conversation with a group of men from the hospital board, but I could tell she wasn’t really paying attention. Not that they would know, she could give Meryl Streep a run for her money in the acting department.

  
Distracted was an improvement on what she had been this past week. The whole week leading up to the Ball had been hell on Earth. She had been unbearable, more so than usual, nothing was good enough and everyone was beyond incompetent. Even Golden Boy Nigel hadn’t escaped her vicious tongue. That alone should have set alarm bells ringing. It was so bad I had found myself wishing Andrea Sachs was still Second Assistant. Before the fat cow had decided to do a runner and leave Miranda in Paris, of all things, the office had been running rather well, and Miranda seemed the calmest she had ever been.

  
I was at the bar, keeping one eye on Miranda, while chatting with a rather dishy doctor from the hospital, when some drunk buffoon knocked into me, spilling red wine all over my dress. I was absolutely livid! I was wearing Valentino for Christ Sake! So after giving the idiot an earful, and an apology to the doctor, I excused myself and made my way up to my room in Miranda’s suite to get cleaned up.

  
*Miranda’s POV*

  
I have had many a moniker given to me, as Editor in Chief of the World's most premier fashion magazine. Devil in Prada, Dragon Lady, Snow Queen. You do not get to my position, or produce a magazine of this calibre by being nice. I demand the best from everyone, and that includes myself. Most of these charming names had been quite rightly earned, and this week, most of them had been reinforced.  

  
I am well aware of the new depths of hell to which I plunged my office in this week. But, quite frankly I did not care. My mood could have easily been attributed to a long list of reasons. I was constantly disappointed in the incompetence of my staff, angry at my first ex-husband for cancelling his weekend plans with our daughters’, infuriated with Irv for cutting my budget again, to name but a few. But the real reason for my awful mood?

 

Andrea was away on an assignment all week for the Mirror, and I was missing her.

  
Andrea Sachs. My former Second Assistant. My much younger, female, former Second Assistant. It was absurd really and so stereotypical it was laughable. A mid-life crisis was surely what it was, but deep down I knew it was more than that. I am 50 years old, with two failed marriages to my name and a dawning realisation, only now, as to why that might be.

  
Andrea had left me during Paris fashion week last year. It was my assumption she was disappointed in me. I believed  that the final straw, was my sacrificing Nigel’s dream job in order to keep my own. She later told me she had left in order to protect her heart. She felt, that if I could do something like that to Nigel, I wouldn’t hesitate to do the same to her. And that, would break her. That crush I suspected she had, was apparently something much more.

  
For myself, my second husband had just served me with divorce papers that same week. The spineless excuse of a man, waited until I was an ocean away, before faxing them to my hotel suite in Paris. I was disappointed at losing another ‘father figure' for my daughters’, but, I was floored over my devastation and feeling of complete loss over losing Andrea.

  
A few months after Paris, we met at an award ceremony. I was presenting an award and Andrea was covering the event for the Mirror. She nervously approached me, offering a heartfelt apology for leaving me so unprofessionally in Paris. She asked if she could take me out for coffee to say thank you for the reference I had kindly written her. For reasons unknown, even to myself, I agreed. Any momentary regret at that impulsive decision disappeared as soon as she levelled that mega-watt smile at me. I found myself wanting to make her smile like that again.

  
Suffice it to say, our coffee date went surprisingly well. Coffee lead to texting which lead to lunches which lead to dinners, which eventually lead to sex. It appears ‘frigid bitch’, one of my least favourite monikers, only applies to men! And my god, what a revelation that was, and what a long, exquisite night. Another glaringly obvious glue, if I had stopped to think about it, was my ability to respond to Andrea physically.

  
My annual Black & White Ball to raise money for the N.I.C.U at the hospital responsible for saving my Bobbseys’ was going well. Emily had done an acceptable job in organising the event, and everyone seemed to be enjoying themselves. I, however, had yet to hear from Andrea that day and it took all my years of experience to keep my restlessness from showing. Although I suspect Emily knew something was wrong, as she had started to hover around me anticipating that I might be requiring Roy and my car at any moment. I was just considering that option when my hidden phone buzzed discreetly. I quickly made my way to a private bathroom and locked the door behind me.

  
**Andrea: Hey Beautiful how's it going?**

  
I grinned like an idiot at finally hearing from her, and then rolled my eyes at my reaction.

  
**MP: Hello darling, very well. We are on track for this to be the most successful event yet.**

  
**Andrea: That's amazing, congratulations, I'm sure the hospital will be thrilled. How are you? I miss you.**

  
**MP: I miss you, terribly. When are you home?**

  
**Andrea: Tomorrow. I'm hoping to make it back in time for dinner.**

  
My heart sank

  
**MP: That is disappointing to hear. I was hoping you would return tonight.**

  
**Andrea: I know and I'm really sorry. I'll make it up to you, but in the meantime... there's something in your suite that will cheer you up.**

  
**MP: Such as?**

  
I frowned, I hadn’t noticed any presents earlier when I was getting ready.

  
**Andrea: I'm not telling, go see for yourself, then text me back.**

  
Pulling out my key card from my phone case, I entered the penthouse suite and closed the door behind me, grateful to be away from the limelight for a while. A familiar perfume hit my senses before I was pressed up against the door.

  
“Hello Beautiful,” Andrea whispered from behind me, “Surprise!"

  
I gasped at the shock. “You’re here" I whispered, my heart racing with a whirlwind of emotions. This was becoming a habit of hers I could tolerate, sneaking into places and pinning me against the door.

  
She placed a kiss on my neck, below my ear, before stepping back slightly.

  
“Turn around, let me look at you,” she ordered softly.

  
Her slow perusal from head to toe made me feel like the most desired woman. There was a hunger in her eyes that made me ache.

  
“You look stunning,” she said, her voice slightly hoarse, before she stepped forward again and took me in her arms.

  
The first touch of her lips on mine after a week apart, righted everything that had been wrong that week. Her lips were soft and demanding when they pressed against mine. I moaned as her tongue swiped across by bottom lip, seeking entry.

 

When our tongues met, that ache began to throb and I knew my La Perla thong would soon be ruined.

  
Andrea's hands began to wander, as the ‘No touching while in couture” rule went out the window. Much the same as the ‘No sex in the office” rule had gone out the window.

  
“How do I get this dress off you?” she growled, pawing at me.

  
I reached for the hidden zip at the side, before she ripped the black fitted Versace gown off me. Tella would be most upset to hear her custom made piece had been destroyed. Although knowing her love of “amore" she might have been impressed as to the reason why.

  
I was now standing in my matching black satin La Perla strapless bra and thong, sheer stockings and my favourite Black Prada pumps. Taking my dress, and my hand, Andrea walked us over to sofa in the middle of the suite lounge. My room was off to the right and Emily’s was to the left, closest to the door. I briefly wondered if Emily would come looking for me and immediately dismissed the idea. Besides she looked happy enough, chatting with that handsome doctor at the bar.

  
Placing my dress over one end of the sofa, Andrea sat down and patted her lap, indicating exactly where she wanted me. Wearing skinny black True Religion jeans, a tight white T-shirt and black ankle boots, she looked beautiful. As she looked up at me, the heated look in her eyes was almost enough to make me come. I was desperate to have her mouth and hands on me.

  
Slowly straddling her thighs, I sat down on her lap and draped my arms around her neck as her hands came to rest on my hips.

  
“Kiss me," she ordered in a whisper.

  
I swallowed hard, as I leant forward and pressed my mouth to hers. Her left hand trailed from my hip around to the small of my back, as her right hand went to the back of my neck. She pulled and pushed me into her. The kiss deepened as I moved my own hands into her hair, holding her close. After several wonderful minutes, her kisses moved to my jaw and then to my neck.

  
“God, I’ve missed you,” she said, as she continued to place open mouthed kisses down my neck. “A week is too long!”

  
“You always leave me," I whined and knew I was whining, as my hips started to rock, I tilted my head back for her glorious mouth. I hate whining.

  
She smiled against my neck. “but I come back, I will always come back to you”

  
I felt my bra release and drop to the floor, exposing my breasts to her hungry eyes. My nipples tightened in anticipation before she flicked her tongue over one before taking it into her hot mouth, sucking hard.

  
I groaned loudly, holding her head in place, as I pushed my chest into her mouth in encouragement. She switched sides and repeated, switching between licking, sucking and biting. I was now a writhing mess on her lap but I needed more.

  
“Go inside now... please. I need you inside me," I heard myself beg. Something else I had never done, before Andrea.

  
Her hands went to either side of my thong, gripping the material as she pulled hard, ripping them off me.

  
Her hand dropped between my twitching thighs, stroking through my arousal.  

  
“Jesus Miranda, you are so wet!"

  
“I’ve been thinking about you all week," I moaned as two strong fingers entered me slow and deep. I could hear how wet I was, and two wasn’t going to be enough tonight.

  
“More," I rasped “I need more," I needed to be filled by her, I needed to be fucked. Hard.

  
She groaned as she replaced her two fingers with three, “You are so hot for me”

  
My fingers dug into her shoulders, gripping her T-shirt, as my back arched, my hips grinding down hard on her hand.

  
I felt her left hand snake around my neck and pull me down for another bruising kiss. Her tongue plundered my mouth as her fingers plundered my hot sex. Every nerve ending was on fire as I felt my orgasm start to build, I was covered in a sheen of sweat. Letting go of my neck, I felt her hand drop between my legs as she started to rub tight circles over my aching clit.

  
“Andrea," I cried out as my hips bucked forward, I was going to break her wrist if I wasn’t careful.

  
“That’s it my beautiful girl," she purred “Ride me, ride my fingers.”

  
“Oh please,” I moaned “I’m so close!"

  
“You look so beautiful, especially when you come, you have no idea how many times I’ve touched myself to thoughts of you."

  
I made some kind of strangled noise in the back of my throat. I must have presented quite the picture. I was naked, except for stocking and heels, hot and sweating, riding the fingers of a former Second Assistant, still half my age.

  
All it took was one more thrust and stroke before she sent me over the edge, coming around those relentless fingers. I heard a gasp from behind me, and even In my bliss filled state, I knew that it had not come from either of us.

  
*Emily’s POV*

  
I was grateful I had taken Miranda up on her offer of using the second bedroom in the suite to get changed that evening. I was also grateful for my indecisiveness that morning, which meant I had another dress to change into.  

  
After a quick shower to wash off the wine, being careful not to get my hair wet, I got dry and changed into my other dress. I briefly wondered if that lovely doctor was still downstairs, as I touched up my makeup. As I did, I heard a noise coming from the lounge. I thought maybe Miranda had come to demand my presence downstairs.

  
Grabbing my purse, I left my room and froze at the sight that greeted me.

  
A naked Miranda Priestly, sat astride a still fully clothed Andrea Sachs, on the sofa, and she was being brought, to what looked to be, a mind-blowing orgasm. I gasped before I could stop myself, and even amongst the moaning filling the room, I knew I had been heard. I swore under my breath and legged it out the suite. As I closed the door behind me, eyes wide and heart racing, I tried to get the image out of my head.

Fuck!

  
Andrea bloody Sachs! I shook my head, how the hell did I not see that coming? No not a new Mr. Priestly at all. Oh this was going to get interesting.

  
“I love my job, I love my job.”  
  
  
  



End file.
